When The Soul Gets a Mate
by Zenayin
Summary: After Voldemort's death in Harry's seven year, he leaves behind a - well, a soul. And on the battlefield of the last war against the Dark Lord, the unfortunate being closest to Tom Riddle's soul is no other than Harry Potter himself... Truly unfortunate?
1. The End is Over

**Author's Note**: Hopefully, the quality of my writing will progress as this story unfolds :). There should be at least ten chapters, although with the shortness of the first few, there may be up to twenty or so.

Everything will be explained in time; so don't worry if you don't exactly 'get it' in the first chapters, the actual characters don't, either xD;.

--

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

The world exploded into a brilliant shower of green sparks as the last Dark Lord roared in rage and disbelief, then fell on his knees, the last piece of his soul gone from his body.

Harry Potter, too, dropped onto the ground, ignoring the pain of his wounds. He had done what he had to.

_It was over._

He didn't notice the small wisp of _something_ that tore itself from the monster's body and paused for a second, then floated towards him, or the slight tug on the corners of his mind as _something_ came to life.

--

The grounds of Hogwarts had turned into a battlefield, then a graveyard. Corpses and wounded were scattered everywhere Hermione looked, and large craters and patches of burnt grass still echoed the images of the great battle that took place there.

_So this is where angels die..._ She paused by the twisted body of Albus Dumbledore, but didn't check for his pulse; she had seen his death with her own eyes, and then heard Voldemort's maniacal laughter as he finally sent his greatest enemy to the otherworld. Hermione bowed her head in silent mourning for a moment, then moved on. There would be time for mourning later.

She found another body, surrounded by corpses of four great harpies; a seventh year Slytherin student with claws apparent on his face and robes, but still breathing shallowly. Hermione sent a horde of blue sparks into the sky, calling for a healer, then walked on, searching for more survivors.

There weren't many.

--

Tom's eyes fluttered awake. A starry sky was looking back at him innocently instead of his usual dank ceiling. He frowned, then tried to move his head.

Pain exploded in his neck and behind his eyelids just as a voice called at him.

"Harry, Harry! Hermione, Harry's over there! C'mon, quickly!"

He drowned back into the darkness.


	2. Merely Soul Mates

**Author's Note**: Argh. I _have_ to figure out how to stop the seemingly endless conversations and actually insert some action in here. Bear with me?

--

"Will he be alright, Madam Pomfrey?"

"He'll be as fine as a bird in a few days, dearie."

"But the Cruciatus..."

"He has been exposed to severe amount of the curse before, Miss Granger. His nerves need to heal, but as I said..."

Both women turned around as a groan came out of their patient.

"Harry! How do you feel? Do you need anything? Oh, Harry, I was so worried, we were _all _so worried, you just wouldn't wake up and speak and..."

"Hermione," croaked the voice. A cup of water was pressed to his lips and he opened his eyes gratefully, only to shut them up quickly again as beams of light assaulted him. "Ungh, turn off the sun."

He sighed happily at the whispered _Nox_ that followed and opened his eyes again. _Ah, much better._

_Indeed_, whispered a new voice in his mind.

--

Hermione frowned as her friend suddenly went very, very still. "Harry? Is everything alright?"

The boy's eyes were frozen on the ceiling for a second, but then he blinked and smiled at her weakly. "Yeah, 's okay. I'm just... Still a little lost, I think. How long have I been in the Infirmary?"

--

_Longer than I'd like. We should get out soon. But first get rid of the Mudblood... She annoys me._

Harry flinched. His mind wheels raced as he tried to place the voice. This was not Voldemort's voice - the bastard had been in his mind plenty times enough to recognize him. But the voice was familiar nevertheless...

"You've been here for two days, Harry. I don't know if you remember, but you woke up a few times before... It was _weird_, though. You didn't know who or where you are, or what's going on..." Hermione said in a puzzled tone.

_Oops. I'm afraid that might have been me_, chuckled a throaty voice in Harry's mind.

_Shut up. I'm dealing with you later. _Harry rubbed his hands over his eyes - just when things looked like they'll get back to normal soon, he starts hearing voices in his mind. Oh joy.

He focused back on Hermione and smiled. "I told you I'm still a bit lost. I think I need some more rest. And then..." His voice caught. "Then I need you to tell me about the battle. About... Casualties."

She stroked his forehead with a sad smile and nodded. "Alright, Harry. Sleep, and then we'll... talk." Hermione went for the door, but Harry's voice stopped her just as she was about to leave the room.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"He's dead, right? For real, I mean? He won't..."

"You killed him, Harry. He's gone. I promise."

And she was gone.


	3. Let's Talk About Present

**Author's Note**: The chapter after this one should hopefully explain some things. Yay!

--

The moment he was alone in his room, Harry launched his silent attack. _Who the hell are you?_

_Do you greet everyone that way? I must tell you, it is quite rude_, said the other voice in his mind haughtily.

Harry growled. _Forgive me for not being used to voices in my mind. There was only ever one, and you just heard what happened to him._

_Hmm, yes. Do tell what has been going on. I've been so curious these past few days, but nobody would answer my questions._

_How..._ Harry frowned. _You were able to control my body while I was unconscious?_

_Yes._

_That's weird... And you still haven't told me who you are._

_Persistent brat. Shall we make a deal? My story for your story._

_Slytherin git. Be it your way._

Amusement and surprise floated through Harry - he grunted as he remembered how he could feel Voldemort's emotions as well. _Only a Gryffindor would make such a blunt statement about my House. _

_Only a Slytherin would try to get a deal out of his soul's body host_, Harry shot back. Was he going insane, taunting a voice in his head?

_You're not going insane. And I suppose I should go first? My name is Tom. I was just working on a -_

_...Tom? Tom Riddle?_

He could feel the other man blinking at him mentally. _Indeed. How did you know? Well, I guess it doesn't matter; as I was saying. I was working on a special, ah, project of mine..._

Suddenly, Tom could feel anger and resentment wash over him, along with hopelessness and a fleeting, whispered question that did not expect an answer - _is this ever going to end?_ He paused and let the other man - what did the Mudblood call him, Harry? - gather himself.

When the panicked torrent in Harry's mind calmed down a notch, he spoke again. _You know me._

But Harry didn't answer him. He had sat up on the bed in shock when Tom Riddle revealed himself, but now he didn't know what to do. Should he go to Dumbledore? Tell Hermione? But there was something wrong with Riddle - somehow, Harry _knew_ that this was not the same Voldemort he had killed two days ago, perhaps because of the different voice, or because he knew that Voldemort would not be that calm about being trapped in another body. Harry snorted; if this was Voldemort, he would be having a rage fit right now. He always seemed to have a rage fit when Harry was inside his head. Not to mention that Voldemort would probably _remember_ being killed by Harry.

He needed more answers.

_Yes. I... I have... Read about you before. _

He could feel Tom''s pleasure and stopped himself from snorting with no little trouble. Voldemort or not, the man still lived off praise. _Read about me, indeed? How flattering. _He paused. _And interesting. Flattering and interesting. Tell me, what year is it?_

_Err... 1998._ Harry mentally whacked himself over the head. Of course! How could he read about him when nothing was ever written about Tom Riddle before he became Voldemort, and the soul in his body clearly didn't remember any such thing! Perhaps it was from the past..

Silence echoed through his mind; he could feel Tom turning the answer around in his mind, more surprise, but calmer this time, filling his mind..

_How old are you?, _Harry asked into the silence.

_Older than I remember being, it seems. The last thing I remember is launching one of my secret projects while I was still at school. How odd._

A lightbulb went off in Harry's brain. _A project that involved Horcuxes? _

Silence. Again. Then -

A force sent his mental self sprawling, then hands reached for his mental neck and _pushed_.

A growl emitted inside his mind. _Nobody would write about Horcruxes in a book. Nobody except the worst Dark Wizards, and why would an innocent boy like you be mingling with them? Who are you? How do you know my name and my deepest secrets, and why? Answer me!_ Tom's voice snarled.

Harry gasped for breath - this should not be possible. Tom couldn't simply _take control_ over his body, even less his mental self. Then he narrowed his eyes and pushed back; two could play this game. He didn't know how that was possible, but he imagined overthrowing Tom and _breathing_ and somehow, it worked.

_I know about you because I have spent my lifetime attempting to _kill_ you_, he imagined whispering to Tom's ear. He knew more than felt when Tom went still, his imaginary body giving up its grip on Harry. _I am Harry Potter, and two days ago, I killed you for the second and last time. _

As Harry's weakened body sent his mind into blackness once more, he could still hear the shallow, surprised breathing of his worst enemy. He smiled.


	4. Madness Likes Company

**A/N**: Hurray! I _actually_ managed to write a chapter that did not consist only of conversation. By the end of this story, it may actually become readable! :P

I think we're on about one eighth of the story itself, if my plot summary doesn't lengthen itself in the next few days as it tends to o'.

--

Harry awoke next day to a fuming Hermione and a grumpy Madam Pomfrey who was shooting disapproving looks at his best friend, a very rugged Seamus Finnegan, wearing a patch over his eye and holding his arm in a sling, and an otherwise white, empty Hospital Wing.

His heart clenched when he could see no sign of Ron.

"Harry! Madam Pomfrey says that you should rest some more, but if you really have to, you are good enough to go, so let's _go. _There's so much we have to tell you and you have to visit Ron too, so do you think you can walk?"

The black-haired boy perked up and was just about to ask after Ron when _he_ blinked back into existence.

_You named your pet Ron?,_ Tom said disbelievingly.

Harry Potter groaned.

--

Ron was in a bad condition, he learned later, but would survive; he had endured several shots of Cruciatus, had his left hand chopped off by a hex that was meant for his neck, and had all the hairs on his body turned into spiders - a very unpleasant experience even if you are not terribly afraid of the little beasts. He still twitched at every sound that even slightly represented crawling, could not stand anything that had more than four legs and would probably never get rid of the trembling of his hands.

But he was alive and that was all that mattered to Harry at the moment.

However, the names of those who have either died in battle or later in the Hospital Wing from their injuries sobered Harry quickly; besides Dumbledore, there were two other dead Professors, McGonagall and Sprout, many members of the Order, including One-Eye Moody and Tonks, and fourteen deceased students, one of them Harry's own schoolmate Dean Thomas, another few Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and surprisingly, six Slytherins.

Late in the school year when Voldemort's massacres had become known to public - he had wiped out whole villages, Muggle and magical, taking special care to torture the young and make sure the old had seen that before their own death - many older students of the Slytherin House had declared their alliance with the otherwise not well liked Dumbledore. Harry, Ron and Hermione, along with the rest of the school, watched with disbelief as even Draco Malfoy turned to the Headmaster, rebelling against his parents and openly defying the Dark Lord.

Even more surprising was the following announcement from Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy; Lucius, upon persuasion by both Draco and Severus Snape, had left the Death Eaters and sought cover and safety within the very walls of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had declined the notion and, much to Harry's chagrin, sent the Malfoy patriarch and his wife to Grimmauld Place where most of the Order of The Phoenix lived at that time.

Needless to say, the Malfoys were not accepted very warmly, but helped the side of Light nevertheless. And in the last battle, Lucius Malfoy had been ganged up by several of his former companions and later killed; Seamus told Harry, however, that Lucius had managed to take down most of the attackers before getting killed himself.

Draco Malfoy, he was told, was in St. Mungo, also in an extremely bad condition - the Death Eaters have tried hard to get him killed, but Dumbledore himself protected the boy and together, the two made a fearsome team.

The losses that the Golden Trio mourned the most, however, were those of one Neville Longbottom and - Ginny Weasley.

Ron had gone almost mad with grief when Hermione told him of the death of his little sister, and would not speak up for days. As soon as he was able to leave the bed, they visited the Burrow where she was buried, and Harry was shaken to see the state of the Weasley family after the death of their youngest.

The war might have ended, but he soon learned that battles were still being fought off the battlefield; struggles to live with the loss and sudden freedom of the Wizarding world, reparations of the destroyed villages, towns and homes, and the general confusion about what those who have dedicated their lives to the war were supposed to do now that it was all over.

The Boy Who Lived had another pressing, worrying matter on his hands; the continued existence of Tom Riddle's soul.

--

Through the next few days after he was released from the Infirmary, Harry had spent long hours explaining to Tom exactly what happened in the last twenty years. In the end they had reached a tentative relationship where Tom was not allowed to insult anyone and everyone anymore or start choking Harry at any given point, and could only take control of his body if Harry explicitly allowed him to.

In exchange, Harry did not tell Hermione or anyone else about the new companion in his mind. Why he had agreed to that, Harry didn't know - but he _did _know that it felt rather... Nice, having someone to talk to when everyone else was too busy trying to settle their own lives and he was left alone to find his way in the new world.

--

_They named me the Dark Lord?, _Tom blinked.

You _named yourself the Dark Lord._

_I thought I claimed I was Lord Voldemort._

_Well, yes, but you wanted a special name just for your followers._

_And a special name for those who feared me. How silly._

Tom was pleased to hear that sweet laugh that left his bodiless soul tingling with delight. He had grown to like making Harry Potter laugh in the past few days... After that argument on their first day, that is, when they almost killed each other - mentally, at least, if not physically.

_Perhaps we should make an interview and publish it as the _Secret musings of one Dark Lord_, Harry? Imagine. 'What were your plans for the future when you were younger?' 'Oh, I don't know... I wanted to climb poles and string wire for the Muggle electricity companies.'_

Harry laughed again. They - when had he started thinking of Tom and himself as 'they'? - were sitting on the stairwell of Grimmauld Place, shooting off cleaning spells each time one of them spotted a spiderweb, a rat's hideout, or, in Tom's case, Kreacher. It would be boring and dull work, cleaning up the big house haunted by memories of Sirius - and even Ginny - if Tom wasn't there to laugh at Harry's own stupidity every time he attempted to do anything with his own hands instead of with magic - like cleaning the dishes or sorting the books in the Library - and chase off Kreacher with creative magic every time the elf tried to sneer at Harry for taking his house over. Tom knew many, many spells and curses that Harry had never heard of before and he was taking an advantage of Tom's knowledge with pleasure.

Tom was also able to stop Harry's nightmares about Cedric, Sirius and especially the last battle, to some degree. And every time Harry got haunted by the lives that were lost to his cause and the innocents that died on the hands of Voldemort because Harry didn't manage to kill him earlier, the left-over part of Voldemort's soul that was not Voldemort would start mentally poking Harry until the boy lost his nerves and attacked Tom back - and so, got distracted at least for a short time.

Sometimes at night when they were lying in the bed and talking, Harry felt like Tom was laying next to him. He liked the feeling; it made him forget how lonely he actually was, with Weasleys still grieving, Ron recovering and Hermione trying to set the Wizarding world on its legs again, while most other people he could otherwise turn to were dead.

The manipulative, power-hungry lunatic who Riddle was before he split his soul for the first time proved to be a nice companion in a day-to-day life where those things didn't matter much.


End file.
